


A Missive

by 222



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Ichabod/Abbie in absentia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-08-18 21:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8176507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/222/pseuds/222
Summary: I am mad, still.





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Sleepy Hollow Powers That Be (For Now),

My name is Karma. Just so you know, I'm on my way.

You messed with my babies, Chemistry and Magic. And now, you're counterfeiting some of their finest work.

Three years ago, I sent my precious twins to you. Something fresh was afoot. The soul-deep smiles, fans embraced, the left out welcomed in, classy artistry. My babies were inspired.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get those two motivated in the same direction? They are identical, but one wears spectacles, the other cloaks in illusions. Even when I write down the address and draw them a map, they still manage to get lost along the way, especially Magic. One minute, Chemistry is holding Magic's hand, the next minute, Magic has disappeared.

Chemistry came first, is the bigger of the two, the hard worker, the proven one. Magic was a surprise, a tiny thing. But such power in just a sleight of hand. Chemistry's words are measured, Magic waxes lyrically; their conversations are orchestral.

I love them both, but I see them for who they are. Chemistry is magnetic, but can be disappointing and destructive. Magic strives to awe, but is very secretive and manipulative. Their aim is high, but they fall out of sync with each other. Still, in your case, they managed to follow my directions and found you. They levitated storytelling using generations of fallow talent and made real a better world, fertile with many wondrous bonds. 

So what did you do? Did you rejoice at this rare treasure? Did you protect it, nurture it, at least show some respect? No. You mocked my babies. You attacked them. You wasted them repeatedly on decoys. Your fetid ignorance rotted their gifts.

I watch my labours lost in separate spaces now, waving as they pass each other, speechless from your poison still pestilent on their tongues. If incompetent thugs can write off so many kinships forged from creativity and passion, why bother, they've thought. Chemistry has taken it harder. Magic can make something out of nothing, but Chemistry requires precise parts and key conditions. I scarcely remember a time when all of the right things came together in the right place at the right time. At the crossroads of promises and possibilities, a dream rocked. I had never seen my children dance.

Since that horrible night, I've sent Magic out alone a few times. It's not the same. Magic's work gets done, but without Chemistry, it vanishes before ever taking root.

They have declared April 8 an annual day of howling. I'm going to have to lock them away that day. Chemistry's tears alone can do real damage. Add Magic's tricks to the screams and their entwined wails could cleft this earth. Even I'm afraid.

While I have had many a dinner of cold vengeance with Death, my children were accustomed to invitations with engraved entreaties and feted with applause, accolades, gratitude and appreciation. I let Risk kick it up at their weekly poker games because Disbelief, Doubt and Denial fold so easily in their presence. Through these centuries, they have been desired, not rejected. Until you. No one had ever fed them hate, in such steaming piles, salted with lies, smothered in a syrup of hogwash. So don't ask why when we meet.

Now, I've got to show up baring my ass-biting teeth and dragging my future-fucked fingernails across your storyboard. And I'm bringing my man, Fate. He's a little too controlling so I don't see him a lot. But for you, I'm making an exception. He's bringing shackles and his special shit-stirring stick. It's long; it goes deep, too. I'm going to need several copies of your resumes to mop up the blood. You won't need them anymore. I've decided you've done all you were meant to do. You'll live. Well, you'll exist. I want it to grind for a long time. Because that's the kind of bitch I am.

Gracelessly, Karma


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Sleepy Hollow Powers That Be Cancelled,

Thank you so much for doing my work for me and taking yourselves out. And the 0.4 oz. teacups, seasoned with salty tears, were enjoyed widely. Let me know your forwarding addresses. I leave you for now with this:

MAGIC was an acronym witnessed in an anagram that you were too cravenly primitive to perceive. You won't get another chance.

Always with you, Karma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The power of this fandom is fierce.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the many extraordinary fanfiction writers who are helping the healing. But I still cry sometimes.


End file.
